


Bleeding Soul (UF!Sans/badass reader)

by Catthhay



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ... yeah you are messed up in this story, Angst, Angst for days, F/M, I don't know what I'm doing, Maybe - Freeform, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader can Fight, STOP NOW, Suicide mention, Torture, UF sans is a jerk, Underfell, You kick sans' ass, abuse mention, and scars, and trust issues, angst for fuck'n dayyyyyyyz, cursing, if you are uncomfortable with swearing, just a little, more tags as it goes on, reader has trauma, reader is a badass, sometimes, whyyy did I put so much angst?, you can be a bit of a jerk, you have a bad mouth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8572399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catthhay/pseuds/Catthhay
Summary: ***I always read UF fanfics that make Uf!sans fall in love with a usually sappy, happy, caring reader. Yeahhhh in reality? I think he could only really fall in love with someone who is more like him, soooo... YOU CAN (and will) KICK HIS ASS.***Frisk has done everything. They softened Sans, they made friends with the scary, intimidating Papyrus, and they managed not to die... much. But, in the end they weren't able to break the barrier. They should have been able to, but... it didn't work. Years pass. Frisk looses their DETERMINATION and moves off to a house in the middle of the forest, somewhere inbetween the Ruins and Snowdin. With flowey. The monsters are back to their violent ways, only slightly nicer than before Frisk had arrived. And then YOU fall down. Well, you don't fall exacly, and you didn't jump, but... well, that's a secret. Anyway, you fall down and meet monsters. It doesn't take long before they find out that you aren't like Frisk. You are a badass, you trust nobody, and you can defend yourself       j u s t.   f u c k i n g   f i n e.





	1. The MOTHERFUCKING start, damn it!

_Fuuuuuck._ Your arm was bent in a weird direction, definitely not a comfortable one, and your head hurt like hell.

Taking a deep breath, you sat up and stared at your aching, throbbing, and most definitely broken, arm. Luckily all that pain you went through your whole life finally seemed to be worth something, because you were used to the feeling of pain and were more annoyed by the injury than anything else. Gritting your teeth, you took a deep breath. There was only one thing you could do right now if you wanted your arm to heal correctly. 

Your yell of pure agony echoed through the ruins when you popped your arm back into the correct shape. 

You panted, sweat running down your face. That was... unpleasant. You felt the aftershocks of the pain running up and down your broken arm, but at least it wasn't bent awkwardly anymore.

A pop of color in your peripheral vision made you turn your head, and gape at a... worried looking flower with a face? Dumbfounded, you spat out the first thing that came into your head:

"What creepy children's cartoon did I just fall into?" the flower looked confused for a moment before it disappeared into the ground and came back up a second later right in front of you.

"Are you okay? I heard you scream. I can't believe another human fell down here! Wait, did you just imply that I belong in a creepy kid's show?"

"You are a fucking _flower with a face._ Its like you're the long-lost cousin of that baby-face sun from  _Teletubbies._ Yes, I screamed, because I broke my arm and had to shove it back into place. Not that that matters, because I am _fine_ and don't need any help. Got it?" you stood up, choosing to ignore the comment about another human. Seeing you get up, the flower looked absolutely flustered and panicked.

"Wait! Y-you're hurt! You can't go a-anywhere if you're hurt! Especially not here in the Underground," you looked at the flower again, raising an eyebrow. You thought the story about monsters living in the underground was just a fairytale, but seeing as you were being fretted over by a buttercup... either you were drugged pretty badly before you fell, you accidentally ingested some of the buttercups you landed on, or the stories were true. 

However, the flower misjudged your raised eyebrow as confusion and began to elaborate on what he meant. "Y-you see, my friend Frisk fell down here several y-years ago. They made friends and e-everything! It was amazing. Anyway, th-they tried to break the barrier but it didn't work. They kept trying and trying, but eventually they lost their DETERMINATION and built a house in the woods for me and them to live in alone. But w-without Frisk to get them to be n-nice, the monsters d-down here just became m-mean again. S-so if they see you w-with a broken arm, they will take advantage of it and try to b-beat you up. They won't k-kill you because Frisk's influence is s-still there, b-but they will definitely h-hurt... you?" 

The flower's explanation had turned into a question at the end because of your laughter. The explanation was easy to follow, but at the end you just couldn't help but laugh sardonically. 

"I'd like to see them try," you growled, eyes dark and shadowed. The flower trembled, his head sinking closer to the ground in fear. You huffed. "Don't worry, Yellow. I only hurt people who attack me first or give me a reason to hurt them. Besides, its no fun if the other person doesn't fight back or isn't strong," you wave your good hand at him. "So, what's your name mysterious-flower-guy?" 

"F-Flowey. Flowey the Flower," he straightened up a bit, looking slightly relieved at what you had told him. "Y-you know, you can heal faster if you eat the food down here. It's magic, and will help you recover," you tilted your head at him, smirking. 

"Magic food, huh? I'll believe it when I eat it," you were really hoping it wasn't a lie because your arm was killing you, and the whole reason you had woken up earlier on the bed of flowers was because you had passed out from shock. You didn't want to pass out a second time from the same injury, even if darkness was threatening to overtake you from the edges of your vision. "See ya later then, Flowey," you waved at him with your good arm and started to walk through the Ruins. 

Luckily, the flower didn't lie to you. You found some food-- it was really expensive, and you didn't see anybody anywhere, so you stole the doughnut and shoved it in your mouth. Spiders crawled out of the walls, and worried that they were angry and possibly even venomous you wrote them an IOU and ran the hell away from there. When you were several rooms away you noticed that the doughnut had healed your arm, and you almost punched the wall in joy. It was definitely worth pissing off spiders if it meant no longer having that damn pain in your arm. 

Then you came to the house. 

Seeing a house in the middle of underground ruins filled you with... confusion. And excitement. Creepy houses were the fucking  _best._ So, without thinking anybody was home you just walked through the door and started exploring hallways. Then you noticed an odd smell. Suddenly realizing somebody did in fact live here, you tensed for a moment before shrugging and entering the kitchen where the smell was coming from. 

And you saw a goat... person... thing. As usual, your eloquent self blurted out the first thing that came to your mind instead of thinking to introduce yourself and announce your presence like a normal person. 

"Are you putting blood into a pie?" 

The goat woman spun around, a flame appearing in her hand. Only your quick reflexes got you out of the first shot in time. After the flame hit the wall, the goat woman focused on you and seemed to relax. Maybe. She seemed to be in a state of perpetual jittery paranoia, if that constituted as 'relaxed'. 

"Oh my, a child," she said, her face taking on an awkward and fairly creepy smile. You figured it was her attempt at being friendly and welcoming. 

"I'm actually an adult," you corrected her, crossing your arms. I'm twenty-one years old," the woman's eyes widened. 

"Oh. I thought all humans were children, and that you were just a bit bigger."

"No, humans grow up too," you saw the woman's eyes sadden, and decided to change the subject. "But, uh, you wouldn't happen to know how to get out, would you?" the goat woman's eyes took on an angry glint. 

"Oh, so you want to leave me alone, too? Even adult humans are ungrateful, misbehaving brats!" 

You sighed, not exactly surprised. After all, your luck (rather, extreme misfortune) with people was legendary. 

"Oh great. Your one of those don't-abandon-me-or-I'll-kill-you types," you muttered angrily, turning to find your own way out. A ball of fire flew past your ear, singing a strand of your hair.  You spun to face the goat woman, anger in your eyes. 

"What's your name?" 

"Excuse me, child, does that even matter now? I'll kill you quickly, don't worry. It is much better a fate than what awaits you outside these ruins!" 

"Tell me your name!" you growled at her, dodging her flurry of fire with practiced ease. Fear slowly crept into the woman's eyes, not a lot but enough for you to notice. Your experience in fighting was easy to see even just by the way you sidestepped and ducked her fire with fluid grace.

"Fine. My name is Toriel," the goat monster ground out as she sent another flurry of fire at you.

This time, you moved forward as you dodged until you were only inches away from her. You grabbed her wrists and kneed her in the stomach mercilessly, your eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than anger.  

"I always ask the name of my opponent before I fight them. Just in case," with her arms safely in your grip she couldn't attack you, so you leaned in close to one of her bloodstained, droopy ears and whispered:

"Because they don't always live to tell me their names later," with that, you let go of one of her arms and quickly elbowed her in the face before she could attack. "Don't. Don't try to hurt me again, or I will kill you," she could hear the truth in your voice. That wasn't what had kept her in place though. The solid threat in your voice, as frightening as it was to her, was not what kept her from attacking as you left that kitchen. 

What kept her from throwing another ball of flame at you was your LV. She had caught a glimpse of it during your brief fight. You hadn't killed any monster in the ruins, she knew that because that annoying flower would have warned her if you had. His convenient way of moving made it almost impossible to land a strike on him, so she was sure he was alive.

So why was your LV already at ten?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there wasn't too much badassery (yes I just made that up) in this chapter. It is just the intro, after all. But don't worry! As soon as you make it into the rest of the underground the action will pick up significantly, especially when you meet Sans (insert evil laugh here). Anyway! This is my first Undertale fanfic, and my first story here on AO3, so tell me what you think!


	2. The Assless Asshole

You wandered through Toriel's house, giving the kitchen a wide berth. There had to be a way out! Only after an hour of wandering did you finally notice the stairs that led down. 

You had to resist the urge to slap yourself. The house wasn't even that big-- why did you spend so much time walking around when this staircase was in plain sight? After you finished mentally kicking your own ass, you started to decline. 

The inky darkness enveloped you with each step. When you made it down, you were positive that there was a way out down here. After all, who has a basement that is mainly a really long hallway if it doesn't lead somewhere? Your confident steps echoed as you walked down that corridor, and then the sound stopped as you halted in front of a large door.

Seriously, how big did monsters get? Did they honestly need a door this fucking huge? Pushing those thoughts aside you pushed one of the doors open, and groaned in pain as the sudden brightness of the snow burned your eyes. A string of curses flew from your mouth as you had no choice but to stand there, a complete sitting duck, as your eyes adjusted to the light.

Somehow your eyes seemed to catch on to the importance of your sight, and adjusted just in time for you to see-- and therefore dodge-- a glowing bone that had been aimed at your head. A growl tore itself out of your mouth as your walk forward, your eyes and ears alert for the person who had tried to impale your head with a bone. That was when the coolest thing you had ever seen in your life walked out of the bushes. Ahem, the coolest _monster_ , anyway.  

It was a skeleton. A motherfucking _skeleton_! Not only that, but you thought that his fashion sense was perfect. And not many people could pull off the whole golden-tooth thing. It usually made them look gaudy and like gangster wannabees, but this guy actually had it working to make him every bit as intimidating as he was obviously trying to be. A smile spread on your face, which for some reason made the skeleton's seemingly permanent smile turn into a scowl. For once since you fell, you actually thought about what you were going to say.

And then immediately ignored yourself and blurted out the thoughts at the surface of your brain.

"You fucking have red eyes! That's awesome!" whatever the skeleton had been expecting, that wasn't it. It looked at you with confusion, but his mouth was still twisted into a toothy scowl. "And your teeth! Damn perfect. I wish I had fangs like that, but they only look gaudy and stupid when a human tries to sharpen their teeth. But I guess you don't technially have eyes, but red lights in eyesockets instead. Damn, that's even cooler!" You shook your head, running your hand through your short (H/C) hair. "The most I can do to make myself look intimidating is cut my hair and wear the right clothes. I could get tatoos, but... Do you guys even do tatoos here?" the confusion in his eye lights made you think not. You shrugged. "Eh. I wouldn't get any anyway, the thought of paying somebody to put me in pain just to get a design on my skin isn't exactly cool. Anyway, I'm (Y/N). I would like to chat, but, did you throw a bone at my head?"

"... Kid, you definitely aren't what I expected. I thought you'd be like Frisk," the name sounded familiar, so you scrunched your eyebrows and thought about that. When you remembered, you snapped your fingers.

"Oh! That kid that the talking flow-- _Flowey_ was telling me about. Yeah, two problems there, Skele-bro," you ignored the look on his face at your quick nickname for him. it was equal parts shock, annoyance, and respect. "One," you held up one finger. "I'm an _adult_. Does nobody here know that humans grow up, too? Two," you popped a second finger up, "I'm not much of a friend-making sorta gal. I'm a loner. Oh! I almost forgot, Three," you put your fingers down and pointed at him. " _You didn't answer my fuckng question,"_ you reminded the skeleton, your voice dark. The red in his eyesockets lit up, burning brighter. He leaned back on his feet, looking as relaxed as possible as he grinned at you with his sharp teeth. It didn't look friendly. It also pissed you the hell off.

"Yeah that was me, Doll," he drawled easily. His deep, raspy voice was-- grudgingly-- another thing you added onto the list of fucking cool things about him. The low sound sent the hair at the nape of your neck rising, and it sent a shiver up your spine. Yes, _up_ , not down.  You weren't scared of his voice, it downright gave you excited energy. You had to resist the urge to bounce on your feet-- the excitement the voice gave you had filled you with adrenaline and you wanted nothing more than to punch somebody repeatedly with a smile on your face. "But I wasn't really trying to hit you. I thought the old lady was comin' out to poison Frisk with another bloody pie. And I'm not exaggerating, she literally put blood in them when she runs out of milk or whatever you put in pies."

You cracked your neck, your fingers tingling to just _punch_ something. You clenched and unclenched your fists. "Yeah, I know," you replied easily. "I walked in on her as she was mixing some in. You know, before she aimed some  _firepower_ at me when I asked how to leave," the skeleton stared at you for a second, registering what you said. His sharp-toothed grin grew. 

"Did you just make a pun, Doll?" You nodded with a smug smirk. "That was pretty bad," you just shrugged. You knew it had been pretty bad, but you couldn't help it. "How'd you get past the old lady anyway?" You leveled your dark glare at him, a smug twist still on your lips. 

"I didn't kill her," you said when his eyesockets widened at your glare. His eyesockets went back to their normal size, but he now seemed slightly confused as well. "I just beat her. I hate when people attack me, so I dodged her fire and kicked her a bit until she understood not to attack me again," now his expression was unreadable. "Now then, _what's your name?_ " your voice went dark again, and his gaze shot to you, his eyesockets narrowing at your tone. You knew he had guessed there was a deeper meaning to your question than you were letting on.

"Sans," he told you in his perfectly gruff voice. You cracked your knuckles, and the timing was perfect because the cracking was nice and loud, and made the skeleton flinch ever so slightly. _Not used to the sound of bones coming away from the socket, are you?_ you thought.

"Well then, Sans. I'm afraid I don't believe you," his mouth twisted into a frown again.

"What?"

"You fucking heard me. I have some problems with trust, you see, 'cuz people like lying to me. Think I'm gullible. So, when you say you were aiming at the old lady? I think that's absolute bullshit," You stepped towards him, and he picked up on the mood easily. One of his red eyes flared brighter than the other, seeming to catch on fire as sharp red bones surrounded in red glow popped into existence in the air above and behind him.  One of his bony hands was out of his pockets finally and in the air, apparently being what guided his sharp weapons.  

He didn't attack until you made your first move. You ran at him without warning, and found that he was a much more interesting opponent than the goat lady. A sharp bone glowing a bright crimson landed in the snow only inches to your right. Another almost the exact same distance away from you landed in the snow on your left. Sans's attacks were faster and more well aimed than Toriel's were, and more dangerous. If a ball of fire had hit you in the chest, you'd be pretty badly hurt but likely would have survived. You knew your chances weren't half as good with sharpened bones flying at you and just waiting to pierce your heart. Your eyes widened as a new attack popped up-- two, actually, as sharpened bones protuded from the ground to cut off your path forward. You growled, looking up at the second new attack. It seemed to be a floating animal skull of some sort, and was opening its mouth towards you. 

You dodged right in time, and smirked in triumph as you jumped over the newly broken bones the blaster had made in the bone wall that had been cutting off your path. 

That was when you realized you had no weapon, and this guy was obviously not just going to let you get close enough to punch him. You dropped to the snow, sliding under the new wave of flying bones. The sharpened ends moved faster than you had anticipated, and two of them managed to just barely scrape your forehead. 

The attacks halted. You stood up, taking a deep breath as blood from the two shallow cuts bled down into your eyes. God, it burnt. You wiped at the blood furiously, trying to to keep it out of your eyes while keeping them open at the same time. You couldn't let yourself look away from Sans for a second, you refused to. 

Then it dawned on you. The reason Sans had stopped was because of how close he had come to killing you. In the midst of your anger, you hadn't realized that if you had been even a quarter inch higher on the snow, or a fraction of a second slower in your slide, you would have had your head torn in half. You were both panting, respect shining in both of your eyes. 

"Damn, you don't hold back, do you?" you asked him in between sharp breaths of icy air. He shrugged in an attempt to look lazy even though you could see the beads of sweat on his skull and his chest (hidden to your dismay under his clothes since you would have liked to know how he could breathe) rising in quick and labored breathing that matched your own. Seems casting powerful magic like that was just as exhausting as running and physically avoiding the attacks. You stepped towards him again, and he leveled some of his skull-blasters at you when he saw you move, but you just shook your head and calmly walked the rest of the way up to him.

"I'm too fuckin' tired to run anymore," you admitted with a soft blush. You hated admitting any sort of weakness, but you figured that it suited the occassion. He needed to know you weren't attempting to attack him again. He nodded in agreement, a soft blush of equal embarrassment rising on his cheekbones. You stood there awkwardly for a moment until he let his blasters disappear and his left eye dimmed back to its usual red circle instead of being on "fire." 

"That was a damn awesome slide, though," he spoke up, his voice slightly mumbled as though he was still embarrassed, but his eye lights shining in a bit of respect and energy. He must have enjoyed that fight as much as you did. You laughed, smiling at him. 

"If it hadn't been so awesome I'd be dead. No worries though, I'm just glad you held nothing back!"

"You seriously don't care that I came really close to killing you?" he didn't seem to believe it. You shrugged.

"Eh. I started attacking you first, so its not like I didn't deserve it. I have lots of practice avoiding weapons though, and it seems it saved my life," you were so accustomed to people looking sad at the implications of what you said that you weren't shocked when he frowned. You were shocked, however, that there wasn't pity in his eyesockets.

"You too, eh?" You tilted your head in confusion, and he shrugged lazily again. "Down here, monsters don't really care about one another. If you're weak, and they see it, they will attack you and take advantage of your weakness. So, I'm used to it too. Though I have to admit, I've never seen _anybody_   dodge my attacks that well. It was pretty cool to watch, to be honest. I would have enjoyed it more if you weren't trying to kill me," You chuckled. 

"I wouldn't have killed you unless I had no choice," you hold him, rubbing the back of your neck. He seemed surprised at that. "Here, lets walk and talk. Seeing as you're so cool, I don't think I'm in much of a rush to get back to the surface. I am pretty hungry, though. All I've eaten in the past day was a doughnut I stole from some spiders," he shrugged and moved beside you as the two of you started to walk through the forest. 

"There's a perfect place I know where we can get some grub. It's further this way, in Snowdin, and it's called Grillby's," you smiled at that. 

"Can't wait. Oh, by the way! What do you call those floating skull things?" Sans turned to look at you, and it took you a moment to realize that he was raising a... browbone? Was that supposed to be possible? You ignored it and chalked the movement up to magic, and continued talking. "What? They were awesome! I've never been attacked by floating bones and skulls before, though, so I guess I'm a bit biased. Still, that was fucking badass!"

"Gaster blasters. By the way, sorry Doll. I forgot to mention my brother is a bit... upset that Frisk has isolated herself in her cabin in the woods," you had reached a bridge, and stopped to look at him in confusion.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Sans scratched the back of his skull. "See, Doll, you're an amazing fighter. But, Papyrus wants to take out his anger at Frisk on any human that falls down here. And he's the boss, so..."

You felt his bony hands suddenly shove you backwards, and your eyes widen in anger as you are caught and your wrists tied by another skeleton.

"You fucking--" the skeleton behind you kicks the backs of your knees, making you fall to the ground with a strangled yelp. How did you miss him sneaking up on you? How the fuck could you let yourself get into this situation? You felt your ankles being tied together, and words being said in  loud and intimidating voice, but you ignored it all. You just stared at Sans with narrowed, murderous eyes.

"You little assless asshole!" you shouted at him. The truth was, though, you were mainly angry at yourself. This is what you get for trusting somebody.

Right after that thought crosses your mind, you see Sans glaring at you without regret in his eyes. He seemed even colder to you in that moment than almost anybody you could remember from the surface.

And then you were knocked out.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I hope this is good, I'm not great at fight sequences. Tell me what you think, and don't be afraid to share ideas with me too! More drama with YOU and the Assless Asshole Sans is coming up. Also, sorry for giving you short hair, but I'm not sorry at all. I hope I can make this a slow burn~


	3. Not the Torture They Expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Scars, torture, and suicide will be mentioned in this chapter. The scars will be mentioned in detail, but the torture won't get very intense or last very long, and the suicide thing is just a passing mention. Still, you have been warned. Possible triggers are everywhere here, like landmines, so be careful if you are easily triggered. I have also changed the rating of this story to accommodate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am updating pretty quickly right now, but Idk how long that is going to last. Eventually my posts are going to slow down, but for now you'll probably get updates every two or three days-ish. >.< maybe?

Your head burned again. Apparently headaches weren't healed as easily with magic food. Or maybe it was the rough treatment your captors gave you that brought it back. 

Your captors. 

S A N S. 

S     A      N      S.

T H A T     F U C K E R. 

Your memory slid back into your mind with all the grace of a summersaulting elephant. You snapped your eyes open, and tensed all your muscles so that you wouldn't flinch like you instinctually wanted to at the sudden sight of two skeleton faces right in front of you. They didn't seem to give off body heat, so you didn't feel their presence so close to you. 

Swinging your hands a bit, you were unsurprised to find yourself with your arms chained to the wall above you, and a quick look down confirmed your other suspicions about shackles being snapped around your ankles. You scrunched your face in disgust; this wasn't your first time being held prisoner, and last time wasn't fun. You weren't raped back then, thank God, but that was a small consolation in comparison to what  _had_ been done to you. 

"SHE'S AWAKE NOW," said the taller, (also cool) skeleton you figured was Papyrus. 

"I can see that, Boss," Sans said with a scowl as he glared at his brother. 

"THEN GET HER READY," Papyrus moved over to a box and pulled out whips, a knife, and various other things you didn't care to identify. Sans huffed, his golden tooth glinting, but moved towards you when he realized his brother wasn't paying any attention to him anymore. Sans unlocked the shackles that kept your arms above your head, and roughly tugged you up onto your feet. You bit your tongue harshly to keep yourself from crying or whimpering; your arms were both completely asleep and tingled in the worst possible way as he moved them without remorse.

You spat on his skull. The advantage of being several inches taller than him. It landed right on the top of his head, and made him freeze for a moment as he looked up at you. The red lights in his eyes seemed to intensify. 

And then he slapped you. 

You were used to slaps, really, but there was no helping it. You let out a small squeak of pain, your head thrown to the side by the force of his blow. After all, his hands were fucking  _bone._ And being slapped by unprotected bone was far worse than being slapped by a flesh-padded human hand. That was when his brother came over, snickering at the spit splattered on Sans' skull. Then Papyrus grabbed you by the neck and lifted you up to his eye level as if you weighed the same as a bag of feathers. 

And even though he wasn't trying to choke you, yet at least, just the force of being picked up by your throat cut off a bit of your air and made it hurt to breath. You were fairly sure he knew this fact very well.

"SEE, HUMAN? EVEN MY IDIOT BROTHER ISN'T TOO LAZY TO HURT YOUR ASS IF YOU MISBEHAVE. I AM NOT NEARLY SO LENIENT, SO YOU SHOULDN'T TRY SUCH A TRICK ON ME IF YOU VALUE YOUR PRECIOUS HUMAN SKIN."  

You didn't care any more. Betrayal was already a bitch that had punched you in the side and busted your lip (proverbially of course) thanks to Sans. You could at least deal with physical pain. Physical pain would heal a hell of a lot faster than the mental sucker punch Sans had given you. So, deciding that starting off torture with the worst of what they'll give you to make the rest seem dull in comparison, you spat. This time, since Papyrus was so damned tall, it landed on his scarf.

Based on his reaction, you really did not want to know what would have happened had it landed on his face or skull.

Papyrus immediately growled, his eyesockets narrowing, and tossed you into the unforgiving wall of your cell. Not the wooden one, either, but the metal bars that kept you from escaping. You gasped at the horrible sensation of metal bars making their long bruises on your back, and braced your hands against the floor in an attempt to raise your chest up to take a breath. 

That was when Papyrus slammed his foot down on you, right on one of your new metal-induced bruises on your back. The force just garanteed new bruises on your chest as you were now slammed into the equally unforgiving floor. The only thing that was better about the floor was that he had only slammed you two or three inches this time. 

But still, it hurt like a fucking bitch. 

"I WARNED YOU, STUPID HUMAN. BUT... PERHAPS THE STAIN ON MY SCARF CARRIED GOOD NEWS,"  he bent down to your ear and whispered menacingly in it, almost deafening you since his whisper was still at the volume of a yell, only a little more raspy. "YOU WILL PROVE FUN TO BREAK." 

He pulled his foot off you, allowing you to push yourself off the ground to take some deep, and sadly painful breaths. You were suddenly glad that the shackles on your ankles were attached to such long chains. If they hadn't been, he might had ripped them from your legs with the force of that throw. 

Sans, the smirking asshat that he was, came over with his hands in his pockets and stared at you with dark smugness. 

"Ya'see, Doll? This's what ya get for fightin'. I admit, you are pretty damn good at it, but you can't do shit if you're chained up now, can ya?" You just glared at him with unbridled hatred. If your hands weren't so crucial in keeping your aching body above the ground you would have used them to grab his ankle and drag him down with you. On second thought... your arms were already almost completely awake thanks to the thrashing you just got. Maybe one arm would keep you up...

So you did it. Sans wasn't expecting you to be so damn fast, and you grabbed his ankle in a blur of movement with your previously-broken arm. You grinned in satisfaction at the moment of shock writted on his face as you brought your arm sharply back in towards your body, knocking him off balance to come crashing down right in front of you. He growled, but after a second the sound was covered up by Papyrus' loud laughter.

"NYEH HEH HEH. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET, YOU FUCKING SACK OF LAZYBONES. IF YOU WERE SMARTER YOU WOULD HAVE STAYED OUT OF HER REACH. NYEH HEH," a moment later, though, as Sans was getting up, Papyrus boomed again. "DO NOT KICK HER YET, THOUGH. FINISH GETTING HER READY FOR OUR TORTURE SESSION. SHE'S STALLED US LONG ENOUGH."

Only you heard Sans' growling at his brother's verbal abuse. Once again Sans hauled you up so you were standing, but this time he moved behind you to avoid more projectile saliva.

"Now, Doll," he growled close to your ear. "I'm gonna have ta strip you down to your underwear. Papyrus likes to see the scars he leaves," he chuckled. You sighed, shaking your head.

"You don't want to take off my shirt then," you warned him. You could tell he was confused when his hands froze at the hem.

"Huh?"

"I said, you don't want to take off my shirt then. There isn't much room for new scars."

Not believing you, Sans shoved you against the wall so that your back was facing him and Papyrus, and then he roughly tugged your shirt up and off of you.

The room became silent. Even the sound of Papyrus rummaging through his torture supplies stopped abruptly, as if cut off. The air seemed to freeze in place, and you could feel two pairs of skeleton eyes boring into your back. Or, more accurately, scanning over the plethora of markings  _on_ it. A sick pleasure rolled in your gut. It pleased you to know that they were shocked and trying to figure out just _who_ exactly they just picked up to torture.  

You knew what they saw from twisting your body countless times to see it in the mirror. There were whip weals criss crossing over your (S/C) skin. There were also burn marks from cigarettes, and slash marks and stab stab marks from something sharp. Some of them, you knew from experience, were from knives while others were made by glass. However, doubtlessly the most shocking, were the  _carvings_.

Somebody had used a knife to carve words into your back. Worthless. Slut. Mistake. Bullet meat. Other insults you either refused to remember or couldn't read because of their placement on your back. And there was the tattoo, too. You had told Sans before that you didn't want tattoos, and this was the unspoken reason why. In dark purple ink across the middle of your back, going over older scars and under newer ones, was the word:

 

 

> **VENGEANCE.**

It meant more to you than the two skeleton brothers could have possibly understood, and it had been a tattoo given to you against your will. 

The silence was broken by a long breath. Sans had actually been the one to take that deep breath and his grip on your shoulders was loose now, as if his hands were only still there because gravity kept them there and not because he was still holding you. You turned your head back to look at the dumbfounded skeletons. 

"Oh, there are more scars under my bra strap, by the way," you mentioned casually. You were used to the marks on your back already, accustomed to them enough that you easily distanced your emotions towards them. 

You turned around, not really caring that your upper body was only covered by your bra. It wasn't necessarily that you were super confident about your body, though you would be if it wasn't for the scars, but you simply didn't give a fuck anymore if somebody saw you like this. If they didn't like your body, what the hell did it matter anyway?

The skelebro's eyes wandered down to your midsection for a moment. There were some more scars here, but not nearly as many. Only two slash marks from knives and half of a whip weal that started on your back. You rolled your shoulders, looking down at yourself to take stock of the new injuries you could see, since you couldn't see the bruises that you didn't doubt were spreading on your back. True to your suspicions, the skin over your ribs was starting to take on a purple tinge from when Papyrus stomped you into the floor.

The sudden clatter of dropped items made your gaze whip over to the tall skeleton. He had, to your profound shock, dropped all of the torture equipment he had so painstakingly taken out back into their box. He then walked over to you and Sans, somehow less intimidating to you even though you couldn't understand why. Nothing had changed about him, not that you could immediately see anyway.

"WELL, THIS IS DISAPPONTING," he huffed, crossing his arms. You raised your eyebrow at him. To your surprise, a red blush dusted his cheekbones briefly. You thought it might actually be... Shame. Then you discarded that thought because you had definitely seen him taking out a scalpel earlier, and it had definitely been among the things thrown back into the torture-supplies box. There was no way that could be sanitary.

"I HAD BEEN PLANNING TO TORTURE YOU, BUT THERE IS NO POINT WHEN YOU HAVE OBVIOUSLY ALREADY ENDURED ENOUGH PUNISHMENT. AND SEEING AS YOU JUST FELL DOWN, THOSE MARKS MUST HAVE BEEN FROM OTHER HUMANS, SO..." you were extremely confused. He sounded as if he was trying to figure out what to say, and it seemed fairly out of character for him even if you had only known him for a few bruise-birthing minutes. "I MEAN! I COULD NOT SEE ANY MARKS I WERE TO MAKE ON YOU ANYWAY, SO THERE IS NO REASON FOR ME TO HURT YOU IF I COULD NOT RELISH IN THE PROOF OF IT! YES, THAT IS IT. YOU SHALL STAY PRISONER HERE, THOUGH. SCARS OR NO SCARS, YOU ARE STILL HUMAN. I SHALL NOT ENDURE ANOTHER ABANDONMENT FROM ANOTHER HUMAN!" he stomped out of the room before either you or Sans could call him out on being soft.

Seeing your chance, you snatched your shirt from Sans' grip and slid it back on. Judging by how he backed up and put his hands in his pockets, he probably didn't mind being unable to see your scars.

"So, Doll. Who hurt ya so badly?" you glared at him, not seeing why he might care. He wasn't much better than the people who gave you your scars, anyway.

"None of your fucking business," you snap at him, moving to punch him when his left eye got enveloped in magical fire like when he fought you and you were suddenly unable to move. You hissed at him, knowing that this little trick he had you under probably took a lot of energy to keep up since he didn't pull it on you in your last fight. Sure enough, he let it drop after a few seconds. He held up his hands as if you had no reason to hurt him. Like hell you didn't. The bastard betrayed you to let his brother kidnap you for torture!

"Look, Doll, I'm bein' reasonable here. No reason to strike out at me like that," he grinned as if he just said something clever. You stared at him incredulously for a second.

"That was not funny. At all. Your sense of humor is pretty dry, isn't it?"

"Eh. Down here, it's impressive if you have a sense of humor at all."

"I've noticed," you said dryly. You crossed your arms, deciding that it wouldn't be smart to attack him again so soon when he could stop your movements without warning. "Anyway, why the hell do you care who hurt me? Just a few minutes ago you were about to be on that list of people who contributed to my scars."

His eyesockets widened a bit, and you realized too late that you let something slip despite your best efforts.

"List of people, Doll?" His mouth turned down into a frown. "More than one person did that to ya?"

"Go fuck yourself," you hiss, determined not to tell him anything else about yourself. He was silent for a moment.

"... Did you jump, Doll?" You startled at this, caught off guard by his sudden question. Then you just stared at him as if he was stupid. Sure, at the beginning of all your pain you had considered suicide, but in the end you decided that living was the best choice. That way you could get revenge and give your oppressors back twice the pain that they gave you, and so that you could keep them from putting anybody else through the same hell. Sans seemed to misinterpret your silence as acknowledgement, and sighed.

"Look, Doll, I know whats on your back must have been hell, but--"

"You idiot," you huff, shaking your head. "I didn't fucking jump. I'm not depressed, either. At least, not any more than anybody else who went through the same shit as me would be. So quit your sympathy act, 'cuz I never bought a ticket to see it and I don't want to. I'd be paying to watch bullshit. I still don't trust you as far as I can throw you, buddy, and considering that little magic trick you pulled a few seconds ago I doubt I could throw you at all. So why don't you go on crawling back to your big brother to protect you?" he stared at you. Then he seemed to wait a moment as you caught your breath from your verbal rampage, apparently expecting you to continue. When you didn't he scowled and looked away from you pointedly.

"Well, glad you got all that off of your--" you saw where this was going, and he could tell from the face you made right before you interrupted him.

"NO," you warned, but he just plowed on.

"-- back," you groaned in annoyance, pinching the bridge of your nose. He just had to go there, didn't he? "But, Doll. I'm actually the older brother."

You waited, expecting a punch line. When it didn't come you couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter. Sans growled again, but you barely heard him as you gripped your sore stomach and continued to laugh. When you got your breath back, you wiped off your laughter tears and chuckled one last time as you straightened up and looked at him again.

"Seriously? You let yourself be ordered around by your younger brother?" his cheekbones flared red, and you chuckled again, refusing to relent. "And you actually call him 'Boss,'? You're lacking some real backbone, buddy, letting him walk all over you like that. And those insults? You seriously take that?" his magical red blush-- which you have silently dubbed the 'blush of shame,' just got worse.

"Heh. Doll, you don't know what it's like havin' only one HP. My bro-- Boss, is more durable than I am, and he's in the Royal Guard to boot. Besides. He just has issues showin' how he cares about me. After all, down here people take advantage of all your weaknesses. If you care 'bout somebody, they become that weakness and therefore get a huge target on their backs. But you're different, ain't 'cha?" he suddenly had an odd look on his face.

"I could tell you'd been through shit when we first met. After all, it takes a lot for a human to mask the color of their soul without even knowing it exists--"

"Oh. That's what the hearts are," Sans looked at you incredulously again.

"Excuse me?"

"I could see them after I got my first few scars, mental and physical. People thought I was crazy when I said they had a colored heart in them, and it just earned me more scars,"

Sans stared at you for so long that you figured humans weren't normally able to see souls. "Then why'd ya just tell me, Doll?"

You shrugged. "Weird shit like that seems normal down here, so I figured why the hell not admit it? Anyway, you said the color of my soul is masked? So you can't see it?" you were so genuinely curious now that he couldn't help but let out a strained chuckle.

"Doll, you are so weird," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Anyway, yeah. I can't see the color of your soul, which would tell me what your soul's-- and therefore _your_ \-- main attribute is. I like getting a read on humans that way," You thought about this, then nodded. It was sensible. It was hard for you to see the colors of souls anyway, it only happened when they were hurting you or fighting you. If you were able to see souls whenever you wanted, and if you had known the color meanings, you might have been able to avoid some fights in the past. Oh, well.

"SANS! YOU USELESS SACK OF LAZYBONES! STOP TALKING TO THE HUMAN AND GET OVER HERE!"

Startled, you had a good laugh as Sans jumped a good foot in the air from his brother's loud and sudden shout from outside. Sans grumbled for a moment and turned to leave, turning back to you briefly.

"Stay here, Doll. You can't get out of this cell anyway, but eh. Don't try. Boss is probably gonna want to keep you here to toss you around a bit still, and I don't want him yelling at me if you get out."

In response you just flipped him off, making him shrug and lock the cell door behind him as he left.

You sunk to the floor and hugged your kees, closing your eyes as you finally dealt with the pain of your new bruises.

Well, you weren't tortured. That had to be something, right? But...

You looked around yourself with a sigh of sad acceptance.

You hated being locked up.        


	4. Comic wannabe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caution! Poorly executed drawings ahead! Not a real chapter. :p

Hi guys! This is Catthhay, the author, speaking to you! I am not updating yet. However, I did get really... hyper... and I recreated a scene from ch. 1 in comic style. However, I warn you that my drawing is horrible, and I have no way to animate this like some other people do so it is just pen on paper. If you can animate and you want to, BY ALL MEANS, steal this and redo it. Just, you know, gimme a bit of credit >.< k

... so yeah. That's my crappy drawing. My poorly-executed comic recreation of this scene from ch. 1. If any of you guys reading this want to draw your own comic recreations... PLEASE DO. It would be the highlight of my life ^.^ anyway, thought this would be a fun little mini-update. Hope my horrible drawing didn't scorch your eyeballs too badly. 

 

 


	5. Still a Damned Captive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have been in Papyrus and Sans' jail/torture chamber/ cell for a week. You develop an intense disgust towards mustard.  
> ALSO! WARNING! Abuse is mentioned in a nightmare! Skip the italicized portion if you are sensitive to that topic!

You have been in the jail cell belonging to the skeleton brothers for a week. At first it was unbearable because Papyrus kicked you whenever you tried to escape and was also under the impression that humans ate dog food. For two whole days the only food in your cell was fucking  _kibble_ until Sans visited again and saw the dillemma. 

Even then, though, he watched you starve for another day before finally taking somewhat-mercy on you and handing you a plate with a sandwich on it. Then he explained to his brother that dog food was inedible for you, and from that day on you had a plate of day old bread in your cell next to the bowl of kibble that Papyrus never removed. You had the sneaking suspicion that he didn't completely believe his brother, and still half expected you to eat it. 

Despite the fact that he solved your hunger issue, though, Sans didn't visit you often. You were usually shackled to the wall with some new bruises on you from trying to escape and he still hated you. Today, though, after a full week of imprisonment, he came down to "celebrate." 

You found out rather quickly that what he wanted to do to celebrate your one-week-of-imprisonment anniversary was to annoy the living crap out of you. 

* * *

You were sitting on the cold floor of your cell, your arms slightly bruised in a few places from your punishments from Papyrus. Your short (H/C) hair was grimy since you hadn't been able to shower, and you could feel at least two layers of dirt and who knew what else on your skin. You hadn't tried to escape yesterday since the bruises had still been fresh back then, as well as the pain in your arms from them being once again shackled above your head. Because of your relative behavior, you were now only restrained by the shackles that were snapped around your ankles and attached to blessedly long chains that allowed you to move anywhere inside the cell that you wanted. 

That was when the asshat came in. 

Seeing his smug fanged face made your hands twitch; you  _really_ wanted to punch him so hard that his skull cracked. You didn't know if you had the strength in you, especially being restricted to eating only bread, to crack pure bone. Still, the temptation to at least try was very,  _very_ strong. He halted on the other side of the metal bars from you, his grin very  _infuriatingly_ smug and his hands shoved into his pockets as usual. 

"So, Doll," he drawled, his eyes scanning your ragged form from its place huddled on the cold ground from top to bottom. It was an eerily, disgustingly familiar look. As if he were appraising a choice cut of steak in a butcher's shop. "You like your new home? You've stayed here a whole week. Ya must be pretty comfy,"  he teased you. You straightened up so you were sitting with your back straight, and leveled your hardest gaze at him. His grin just got wider. 

"It's very quaint," you reply menacingly, your voice dark with hatred and sarcasm. "I love the hospitality. So kind of you and your brother to nurse me back to health," you stood up and came up to the bars. Your palms wrapped around two of the bars on either side of your head, allowing you to get as close to Sans as possible without being completely flush against the bars and looking ridiculous. "Tell Paps," you smirked at Sans' frown at your use of that nickname, "To be gentler with my arm. I broke it when I fell down here, and even though I stole a spider doughnut to heal it, it's still pretty tender." 

Sans chuckled darkly. "Doll, that'll only get him to be rougher with that arm. 'Sides, you wanna keep the stealing thing to yourself. If Muffet finds out you stole from her, Papyrus is gonna make me  _work_ to keep her from killing you. I rather not do anything that requires physical activity," his grin faltered a bit when you tilted your head at him. 

"On second thought, my arm is more than strong enough to punch you several times right in the face. It'll be a game," you grinned at him. "I'll see how many teeth I can knock out of your skull before Papyrus stops me. The gold tooth will be worth triple points," you hiss at him. He chuckles again, but this time it is much darker. 

"You can try, Doll. If you even manage to land a single hit I'll give you fifty G." 

"Nah, you think I forgot what you said last week?" the red lights in his eyes grew more intense. "If I land even a single hit, _you'll be giving me your dust,"_ you had learned throughout this week that monsters turned to dust when they died because they were made up of mostly magic and hardly any physical matter, which was just the opposite for humans.  

"How did..?"he asked softly, his voice more gravely than usual in an odd mix of shock and anger. You smile at him triumphantly. 

"I only need to hear something once. If it is important, I'll remember it even if it was a passing mention. You happened to do exactly that last week," you giggle a little at this turn of events for Sans. "You just mentioned once, very briefly, that you only have one HP. I can land a hit on you, and I  _will_ as soon as I get out of here." 

Suddenly booming steps silenced the both of you, but before you could so much as take a single step backwards the door slammed open and revealed Papyrus. He hadn't actually tortured you, probably because of all your scars that he had seen, but he definitely wasn't afraid of pushing you around. You had at least seven new bruises just from the past three days. 

Sure enough, he stormed over and landed a hit right on your check through the bars, knocking you onto your back. 

"IT IS TIME TO SLEEP, HUMAN. STOP ANTAGONIZING SANS, YOUR ARGUMENTS AND EMPTY THREATS ARE ANNOYING," he boomed at you, but your head was still dizzy from your impact and it took a few seconds for the words to penetrate your brain. When you were able to assess the situation again, Papyrus was dragging Sans out of the small building by his wrists, the shorter skeleton stubbornly refusing to move his legs and thus letting his bony ass and his feet drag against the floor as his brother pulled him away. 

Then the candles in the room went out, and the door slammed shut. You were once again left in near palpable darkness and deafening loneliness. This setting was all too familiar, and you couldn't help but sit up and hug your knees to your chest. You weren't necessarily scared of being alone in the dark, but due to your past it would always be a bit uncomfortable. 

The darkness and the silence weighed on you, almost coaxing tears from your tired eyes when sleep intervened and rescued you. 

Or, rather, took you into an entirely different-- and honestly much worse-- kind of mental torture. 

* * *

_"Go away!" you shouted, feeling your chest sting with every breath, your eye throbbing as it tried to close and give you a new blind spot, and your body quake in fear. You couldn't control it, your body just trembled without forgiveness. You were terrified of the looming figures, looking so much bigger in your nightmare than you knew them to be in real life._

_You dimly realized that your hands were small. In fact, your whole body was small. You were young again, your memory told you that you were eleven._

_The looming figures did not comply to your terrified shriek._

_There was something very important behind you, you couldn't let them get to it. The bundle behind you shivered in the cold as well, not coming out from the blanket that it was wrapped in. Even if they killed you, you could not let them touch it! So they hit you again. You felt the steel toe of a boot dig into your side and force your back into a brick wall._

_You felt yourself get back up and jog as fast as your bruised and bloody legs will allow you to, right back to your spot in front of the shivering bundle. You once again stretched your arms out to either side of your body, refusing them access to the important thing behind you. On and on the beating went. You felt the burning of two broken ribs, your voice rasping from being used out by your unanswered, pained screams. Your throat and lungs also burned from gasping in the bitterly cold air far too fast, in gulps that were far too deep to be kind to your damaged ribs. Your eye had won, and was sealed firmly shut. Blood ran down from your nose and from a slice on your cheek. You could no longer move your legs, and a quick look at them-- bare since your jeans had long since been worn down into long shorts-- showed that they were no better than once entire bruise._

_Your bundle, however, had been protected. Your tormentors had momentarily given up, and this gave you enough time to rasp out claming coos to the bundle. You twisted your body, forcing yourself to move like an inchworm to push the bundle into a new hiding spot in the crowded and dirty alley. When your tormentors came back, all they could find was you. You could feel your body protest and creak in pain as they lifted you up and carried your broken body away. You remember trying to let out one last coo to the bundle, but your parched throat doesn't even allow a squeak to escape._

_Next thing you realize in your nightmare is the feel of leather. It was binding your arms to the arms of a chair, your legs to the legs of the chair, and your back was also strapped to the back of the chair. For a long, barely lucid moment you wondered if perhaps you **were** the chair, as stiff as you felt. Your hope that you had somehow turned into furniture was dashed when one of your tormentors separated from the shadows of your dream to join you, stroking your hair and skin and whispering long forgotten words into your ear. _

_At the sight of the figure's blade, you paled. You could feel your body start to tremble against your own wishes, because you knew what was going to happen. This was a memory after all, a memory your sick mind was making you relive in your dreams. You knew exactly what was going to happen, but that didn't make the dream-pain any duller as the knife bit into the soft flesh of your arm. The figure slowly drew the blade downwards, white teeth being the only discernable feature now in the inky blackness of your memory as it smiled at your pain and the sight of your blood beading up under their knife. Again and again, they sliced your young flesh. Again and again, you watched crimson beads run down your arms to stain the concrete floor. You could hear your own sobs and pleas, neither of which you could feel were real anymore. The only thing in that dream that seemed to be undeniably, unquestionably real, was the knife as it sliced into you._

* * *

 

You slowly opened your eyes as your consciousness returned, determined not to make any sounds or squeals of pain or fright or sorrow at what the night had made you relive. You could only be glad that the skelebros had been so focused on your back the previous week that you hadn't seen them notice the scars on your normally concealed arms. The last thing you needed them thinking was that you cut yourself. 

You sat up cautiously, as if testing the reality of the world you had woken up to. Looking around to see the room as it always was, you sighed and grabbed a stale piece of bread from the plate that it had been on. You ate it slowly, hoping the sensation of your jaw waking up and the warmth of food in your stomach would wipe away the last traces of your horrid night. 

That was when you noticed the white shape sitting right on the other side of the bars, staring at you. Sans. His face was unreadable for a moment, but when he noticed you were looking at him he slid his grin into the proper place on his face and let the mischief return to his eyes. You slid closer to him, not saying anything. After your nightmare you were desperate for company, even  _his_ company. 

"Wipe your face, kid," his voice was unusually soft, and you looked up at him in confusion. He hadn't called you 'kid' in a while either, so why had he suddenly slipped up? He looked awkward for a moment as he gentured to your face. "Tears. You were cryin' in your sleep don't want the boss to see that."

You drop the remainder of your slice of bread, hurriedly wiping off your tears. 

"Thanks," you told him softly. He looked shocked, but you ignored it and refused to meet his gaze. Just _how_ bad was life in the underground, anyway? Sure, people weren't nice very often in the crowd you were forced into on the surface, but people never stared at you like you had sprouted horns just because of one thank you. They might just grunt a vague acknowledgement, but they never stared at you the way Sans had for a moment. 

"Heh. Don't thank me, Doll. Tears just annoy the fuck outta me," he brushed it aside, shrugging. 

"Everything annoys you," you pipe up, exasperated. He had seemed cool when you first met him, but now all he ever did was get on your nerves. "Tears annoy you, my voice annoys you, my threats annoy you. What next? is my breathing gonna annoy you now? Or my blinking? Or perhaps just the air in this room annoys you now," you felt satisfaction the scowl your words brought to his face. 

Then your satisfaction drained to dread as he grinned devilishly at you.

And pulled out a giant yellow bottle. It only took you a moment to realize it was mustard. That confused you; why would he randomly carry a bottle of mustard into the room where your cell was? 

Your question was answered in the worst possible way when he lifted the mustard bottle and proceeded to squeeze it into his mouth. Horrified, you couldn't tear your eyes away as he drank the whole entire bottle right in front of you. When he was done with it, he let out a pleased sigh, and gave you the most evil, mischievous look you had ever been on the recieving end of. 

"Nah, don't worry Doll," he drawled with a smirk. "You can keep annoying me all you want. Mustard is all I need to stay perfectly happy," the shit eating grin on his face had absolutely no match in the known world. You tried to punch him through the bars, but he dodged your groggy attack easily. He laughed at you. "Now don't you ever get  _tired_ of doing that?"

Oh. He had puns now, did he? Fine. 

"I don't know. You ever get  _bonely_ being the only one who likes your jokes?" 

"You're an amateur, Doll. I, on the other hand, can pun in my  _sleep._ "

"Your  _skelepuns_ are  _bone dry_ of any real humor," you argue slyly. 

"Nah, they're plenty  _humerus,_ you just can't  _stomach_ the fact that I'm _punnier_ than you," he pulled out another bottle of mustard from seemingly nowhere, and proceeded to chug it. You grimaced, but plowed on. 

"You don't know who you're _a-dressing_ , pal," you start, leaning forward with a fierce spark in your eye. "I don't even need any time to  _ketchup,_ your puns aren't that big of a  _dill_ and they just  _encurryge_ me to keep on going. I'm a pretty  _seasoned_ punner myself," you just keep on with your rapid _a-salt_ of puns. This goes on back and forth for hours, through all different types of puns and wordplay, until both of you are tearing up in laughter and Sans has gulped down at least ten bottles of mustard.

You also had no idea how, but he had gotten mind bogglingly _drunk_ off of them.  Had he mixed whiskey into the bottles or something?

Once he's drunk, you two wander away from puns into just talking to each other. This wasn't without the occasional reused pun or quick insult, but it was decidedly much friendlier than your previous interactions with him. When he finally passed out in the middle of the night (Papyrus had oddly not shown up the whole day), you were a lot happier than you had been in years. Content. You reminded yourself not to get attached to this bony backstabber, but you did allow yourself a tiny smile before you drifted off to sleep again.

Who knew the badass skeleton was a bubbly drunk?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. This chapter is crap. It is mostly filler, which I suck at, but there are some important things revealed here too, so it isn't competely unimportant to the plot. My B-day is tomorrow, so don't expect an update until after thanksgiving. Thanks guys! (I might fit in another update today though. Maybe.)


	6. Teleportation and smugness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> muahahaha. Also, I recently (I know I am wayyyy behind) started to read Chill or Be Chilled. ... ... Yeahh I think I am going to start a Lawyerpants insert now, too. I also read Customer Service...
> 
> ...  
> ...  
> ...
> 
> I am definitely making a Lawyerpants insert. I loved Customer Service, but I gotta get in on that Lawyerpants love ^^

"Ouch! Bitch, who's kicking me?!" you heard yourself yell, though the only thing you really registered was the biting pain in your side. A soft growl was the only answer you got, and your sleep addled brain still hadn't caught up with your memories. "I swear, Hanna, if that is you, you're gonna get a real--" you sat up, and when the kicking stopped and your eyes open, you immediately stopped talking. Your memories flooded back into your head the moment you saw a single gold tooth and a certain skeleton's face.

  
"Who's Hanna?" Sans asked, suddenly looking interested. You growled in his face, trying to catch him off guard by making a sweep at his feet. The bastard easily dodged, but he was too intent on his question to bother acknowledging the swipe.

  
"Nobody," you hissed at him, standing up slowly. Your muscles were moaning in pain, begging you to stop trying to stand up. You defiantly ignored them until your body was straight and you were once again taller than the annoying older skelebro. "Just a pain in my ass from the surface. Why were you kicking me, asshole?" Sans' sharp-toothed smile turned down into a grimace.

  
"You were havin' a nightmare. Your damn muttering was pretty loud, but you actually yelled once too. It was annoying as hell," his face brightened up, and he donned his sharp-toothed shit-eating grin. "Were you havin' a dream about me 'n Boss?" you grumbled something unintelligible under your breath about certain skeletons being far too enthusiastic about possibly being the source of people's nightmares.

  
"No, shit face. If you were in my dreams, it would only be because I was beating you to a bloody pulp in them," you looked at him again, and then frowned, tilting your head. "Then again, you're just bone so how..?" he seemed confused, too, for a moment before he caught on.

  
"Oh. Monsters don't bleed, sweetheart. We're made of mostly magic, which also means that when we die, we turn to dust."

  
"Really?"

  
You try to swipe at him again, but he dodges. Asshole.

  
"Really, Doll."

  
"Stop callin' me Doll," you protest, crossing your arms. He was actually being tolerable the night before, so why was he suddenly back to being an ass? His sharp teeth stretched into a wider smile.

  
"Then what do you want me to call you? Oh, wait. You're the prisoner here, so you got no choice, _d o l l_." he purposely draws out the last word. You move to punch him straight in his smug jaw, but your fist hits air. He was... gone. One moment he was there, the next he was gone like some cheap magic trick. Only it was real. He wasn't in the room anymore, just.. gone. Your intuition tells you that he isn't just invisible, because if he was then that smug idiot would have been chuckling at your shock. No, he was definitely no longer in the room with you.

  
"The asshat can _teleport_?"

  
The revelation makes you huff. Then, as you sit down in your cell again and stare at the cell door that is still unforgivingly locked from the outside, everything starts to make sense.

* * *

 

 

Stars, you were so damn annoying. At least, Sans thought so. But then... why did he get mustard-drunk and pun swap with you the other night? Even he didn't really know. 

Okay, so he partially knew. 

You were a little hot. With your short (h/c) hair, your (e/c) eyes that seemed to light on fire every time he showed up, and your (s/c) skin littered with all those admittedly attractive scars... he could stare at you for a while without any regrets. 

But damn, you could make him want to explode. Seriously, what was your deal with trying to hit him? Okay, actually a really cheesy pun just popped into his head. The next time you swiped at him, he promised himself, he would unleash the pun-ishment. 

He downed some more mustard from his seat at Grillby's, the blue fire elemental off tending to some other customer. He chuckled to himself as he thought to himself that there was at least _somebody_ that was hotter than you, even if it had to be in a literal sense.

He stumbled home, once again mustard-drunk, around midnight. The less he could be yelled at by Papyrus, the better. Perhaps it was his level of inebriation that made him completely overlook the voice that greeted him when he got home.

"Hey- woah. You are drunk off your ass, what the hell?" Sans stumbled, his eyesight not exactly focusing on the source of the greeting.

"I am not drunk," he slurred. Yes, yes. _Very_ convincing, Sans. The voice seemed to think that, too, chuckling harshly.

"Really?"

"Really. I am tooooooootally sober, odd disembodied voice."

There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of somebody trying to hold back desperate giggles.

"Okay..." the voice said, obviously not believing him. "Then tell the time." San's eyes traveled over to the clock on the wall, and he nods to show that he accepts the challenge .

"Fine, bitch," he turned (almost falling on his ass as he did so), and pointed at the clock. "I AM NOT DRUNK, TIME!"  

This time, the voice could not hold it back. They laughed uncontrollably, and kept laughing even as Sans collapsed and curled up on the floor. The owner of the voice came over and picked him up, propping the sack of drunk bones on one side of the couch, and watching with an amused smirk. Sans slept through the night. 

* * *

 

"Oh  _hell_ no," Sans said almost as soon as he woke up. You were grinning at him from the other side of the couch, a very angry Papyrus standing in front of the two of you. Somewhere in the middle of the night you had found a blanket with little puppies on it, and tucked it around Sans for comedic effect before you fell asleep. Then, a few minutes ago the two of you were woken up at the same time by Papyrus who, legitimately, wanted to know why you were out of your cage. 

"Wait- you--" Sans was temporarily ignoring his brother, staring at you with the most hilarious look of horror on his face. You cackled, very pleased with yourself. 

"Yes, Sansy~" you purred maliciously. Papyrus, unfortunately, was lost. 

"WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TWO IDIOTS GOING ON ABOUT?!" you look up at him, putting the most innocent face you could muster on. 

"I was waiting here on the couch last night to annoy the hell out of Sans, but he got home so drunk he couldn't even see me. Soo~" 

"Noooooo," Sans protested, trying to tackle you. This time it was your turn to dodge, and you sat on his back in retaliation before continuing your story. 

"Anyway, he refused to admit he was drunk. So I told him to tell the time... and.." you snickered. "He literally pointed at the clock and told it that he wasn't drunk..." you dissolved into more giggles, leaning on the back of Sans' head as you laughed-- much to his annoyance. 

Papyrus was not amused. 

"GET BACK IN YOUR PRISON, HUMAN!" he commanded you, trying to grab you by the back of your shirt. You hopped off of Sans, evading Papyrus. 

"No." 

"...WHAT?" 

"I said no." 

Papyrus and Sans stared at you, surprised that anbody would actually say no to Papyrus. Then he got angry. 

"YOU WILL DO WHAT I SAY, HUMAN IDIOT!" he growled, but you shook your head stubbornly, glaring at the brothers. 

"No," you tell him again. "Even if I went back I wouldn't tell you how I got out. So, I would just get out again. And again. And again. Until you found out how I did it. Besides, you have been unbelievingly awkward. You walk in, grab some tool like you're about to hit me, and then you awkwardly toss it to the ground and shove me down before angrily walking out again. So, there is no reason for me to stay in there if you aren't going to  _do anything._ Besides, I have no reason to leave anyway. I know you guys won't actually hurt me, though I don't really know why, and this barrier thing keeping us underground hasn't been broken so I can't escape anywhere." 

"Who told you about..?" Sans asked you, confused. You flapped a hand at him. 

"A talking flower from the ruins. Anyway, I doubt I'd be able to break anything magical. So, It is best if I stay down here with you guys anyway. Deal?" 

The two skelebros just stood still and stared at you. Then Papyrus spoke up: 

"YOU CAN STAY HERE, NOT LOCKED UP, IF YOU TELL ME HOW THE HELL YOU GOT OUT." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CRAPPPPPPPY OH GOD I AM SAD THAT THIS IS THE QUALITY SHIT I AM PUTTING OUT. After all, shit should not be gross stinky shit. It should always be perfect, quality shit. This is not quality shit, this is like the shit you step in when you walk through the dogpark. >.< so... sorry.


	7. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I said I was going to do it, and I don't lie *often*. I actually did it guys, I made a Lawyerpants insert that is bound to have loads of drama. 
> 
> Fair warning, though. You might be in for a culture shock. I am not the kind of person who likes writing the same type of story over and over again, and my characters tend to be drastically different story to story, so you might not recognize it as my writing if you compare it to Bleeding Soul. My writing style changes a bit depending on the personality of the main character I am writing about. 
> 
> So here it is, my Lawyerpants x Reader! 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8770219/chapters/20103355

Day one of freedom from the Cage-- which is the hate filled name that you have given your jail cell-- and after a week spent in it, you were absolutely excited to all hell to be out. However, Papyrus really wanted to know how you got out. You tried to wave it off as "magic" (which was, to your surprise, supported by Sans' jazz hands behind you) but he wouldn't accept it. And damn, could Papyrus get annoying when he wanted to know something. The main thing separating him from a spoiled brat was the fact that he was perfectly capable of killing you, and you had no doubt he would at least try to if you stalled even a minute more. So, not really wanting to add any more scars to your crowded skin, you reluctantly agreed to show him how you escaped the Cage. 

... Yeah, there was a catch though. You were never going to risk being stuck in there again, so the skelebros had a surprise waiting for them when they saw the cell. 

The lock on the cell door was destroyed. It was made of metal, so it wasn't ripped off. Oh, no. You had apparently picked the lock of the chest that Papyrus kept his torture equipment in, and stolen the blowtorch from it, melting the locking mechanism into a scorched mess. When the blowtorch successfully turned the lock into metal mush, you had taken the sledgehammer (how the hell did that count as a torture device? perhaps Papyrus misplaced it; there was an identical chest in the opposite corner labeled 'murder tools' after all) and broken that metal mush right off the door. And then you had taken the sledgehammer to the shackles and chains that had been attached to your ankles, and smashed each chain link until they separated, and then busted the shackles themselves so that they didn't close properly. 

It was clear this level of jail cell murder could not have been completed if both of them hadn't been away from the house, so they stared at you for a long, silent moment. You swung your arms instinctively, remembering how sore your arms had been after all that sledgehammer swinging. Both of them suddenly realized with your gesture just how much strength it would take to knock a metal lock off of its door and break open each individual link of a thick metal chain, and took one step away from you, Papyrus just a beat behind his "big" brother. You chuckled darkly, but then walked into the now easily escapable cell. 

"See, after Sans teleported away from me, I got to thinking. I had only ever seen you, Papyrus, open the door to the cell. Sans had always seemed to just come and go without using the door, and suddenly it made sense since I now knew he probably just teleported in whenever he wanted to reduce the chances of me getting out," you pretended not to notice the brief look of actual respect Papyrus gave Sans behind his back. Sans never noticed, of course, and you weren't surprised. Papyrus didn't seem like he ever showed any respect for his brother. Their sibling dynamic was definitely broken. 

"So?" Sans asked. He wasn't being a jackass, though, he was genuinely interested in hearing your explanation of your escape. You smirked at him. 

"So I started thinking, why were you really keeping me locked up if I can't get aboveground anyway? I thought for a second, 'maybe they want to keep other monsters from hurting me first. Like, maybe they want to be the only ones to hurt me,' and then I saw the window," you pointed to the tiny sliver of window set in a shallow ledge near the ceiling. "And I realized. Some monsters are really small, and if you wanted to keep me away from other monsters then that window should only be able to be locked or unlocked from the inside," You smiled, pausing for sadistic-- ahem, _dramatic_ purposes. Papyrus took the bait first. 

"THAT WINDOW IS FAR HIGHER THAN YOU ARE ABLE TO REACH, THOUGH, HUMAN. SO HOW...?" at this point, your smile was downright devilish. You didn't notice Sans suppress a shiver that he was now trying to convince himself was not at all related to how attractive he thought that smile looked on you.

So you walked over to the chains that were attached to the wall, designed to hold a captive's arms above their head while they sat. They hadn't used those specific chains on you, so you left them untouched. Now, you walked over to them and grabbed one wrist shackle in each arm.

"Just watch," you told them smugly.

Then, you wound the chains around your arms until they were taut, and you carefully planted one foot after the other on the wall. Really, you weren't doing any showy movie trick. You just inched your feet slowly higher on the wall while your arms kept tightening the chain to keep you from falling and cracking your skull. Once you were flush with the wall and your knees were touching your chest, you were high enough that you were only a few inches below the window. Carefully, you transferred the chain in your right hand over to your left, trembling for a tense moment before you were able to tighten both chains sufficiently in your left hand's grip. then you swung your body ever so gently, reaching with your right hand for the shallow window sill. On your third attempt you get it, and unlatch the lock with two fingers.

Window unlocked, you pushed it and it swung open downwards. After that you used the hand on the window sill to pull your body closer to it, then reached that hand outside and flipped your wrist over to put your palm against the wall above the window there. Moving slowly you used that placement of your hand to pull yourself as close as possible to the window before slowly moving your left hand, still holding the chains or else you would have fallen, to meet your right hand. Once your left hand is also flush against the outside side of the wall, you let the chains drop.

Your body dangled for a terrifying moment before your muscles strained against the skin of your upper arms as your pulled yourself head first through that thin window. Before you were all the way through, you were bent almost completely in half, your legs and head outside while your butt was still inside. you sat on the window for a moment, replacing your hands so they gripped the bottom of the window on the inside of the window, and you let yourself carefully drop, turning your hands as your lowered your body until they were placed so you could comfortably grip the window above and behind you, your body now fully straight against the outside wall.  

Then you simply let go, dropping the few feet into the soft snow. Sans and Papyrus got outside just in time to see your landing, and they were once again blissfully silet in shock. 

"Were you a gymnast or something up on the surface sweetheart, because that..." Sans was trying to form articulate sentences, and was mostly failing. "The control you had over your body was..."

You flexed for him, showing very toned arms. Your stomach held some nice muscles too, but you weren't about to pull your shirt up for them. "Bit of gymnastics as a kid, yeah, but most of that is from hard experiences. Chases on rooftops and a lot of failed escape attempts during chases. What most people don't know is that the best way to escape from a place as quickly as possible is sometimes to move as slowly as you can," you shrugged at them as if this was no big deal. "After I got out, I went back in and destroyed everything. I had a bobbypin in my hair so I opened the lock on the torture supplies chest and--"

"Wait. You had a bobbypin the whole damn time?" Sans demanded, crossing his arms. You shrugged again.

"How you think I got the ankle shackles off?"  He shook his head at you. 

"Why didn't you just reach through the bars and pick the cell lock, too, then?" 

You had no answer to that.  

"I THINK THE HUMAN LIKES TO OVER COMPLICATE THINGS, SANS," Papyrus interjected reasonably. Sans stared at him in such a way that you thought that perhaps Papyrus was in no position to judge you on how you over complicated your escape. 

"HUMAN," Papyrus boomed. "YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY QUITE MUSCULAR. I WANT TO TEST YOUR ABILITIES, SINCE THE DAY I CAPTURED YOU YOU DIDN'T PUT UP ANY FIGHT." 

"You ambushed me, Pap--" you start to remind him, but he cuts you off with a slightly hysterical laugh. 

"SO YOU ACCEPT MY CHALLENGE!" 

"I didn't even remotely--" 

"FANTASTIC. PERHAPS YOU WILL PROVE TO BE AN AMUSING OPPONENT. MEET ME AT THE BRIDGE!" 

"The one you guys ambush--" 

"THE OTHER BRIDGE!" 

"I have literally been to no other bridge."

"SANS! SHOW THE HUMAN TO THE OTHER BRIDGE!" Papyrus ran off to probably prepare-- wait, did he just take his entire chest labeled 'murder tools' with him? That concerned you. You were a great fighter, but Papyrus was practically built for human hunting. 

"Heh, don't look so worried," Sans drawled. He was suddenly right next to you. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out if he teleported there or if you had just been so focused on Papyrus that he was able to sneak up on you the normal way. "If Boss kills you, only him and I will remember you. Maybe the old lady back at the ruins, and that coward flowey, but they don't count. So you don't have to worry about anybody else remembering your disgrace of a life, Doll."

This time, your punch actually hit his jacket. Sure, it was the hood of his jacket, but it showed that you were getting faster.  

"Piss licker!" you hissed, which not only came out absolutely ridiculous, but made him keel over in laughter. 

"What the hell?" he wheezed. 

"I invent new and creative cusses, deal with it!" you kick some snow at him, and smile when it actually hits its target. He is now covered in snow thanks to your magnificent aim and the fact that he was too busy laughing to pay attention to you. 

"C'mon, Doll," he finally wheezed and straightened up. "Boss doesn't like waiting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Low key shoutouts to Aqua28 and JadeSapphire97 who inspired part of the first paragraph xD I love all you readers so much, you complete my life <3


	8. I know...

I told some of you that this story was on hiatus. However, this story is officially discontinued. It will be rewritten sometime in the future however. I have gotten so much better at writing that this makes me cringe, so... yeah. I will keep this up, but it will be rewritten eventually. Thank you all!


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